


To Care for a Bard

by justasock_x



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottom!Jaskier, Cuddling, Finger Sucking, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Hand Feeding, M/M, Rimming, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Spit As Lube, Top!Geralt, do not use spit as lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:40:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27151921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justasock_x/pseuds/justasock_x
Summary: Jaskier took the last bite of jerky from his hand, and Geralt suppressed a noise of surprise when the bard’s soft tongue darted over the pads of his fingers. His enhanced sight caught the glimpse of teeth from Jaskier’s private grin, and he growled under his breath, shoving another jerky stick into Jaskier’s face while he finished his own.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 3
Kudos: 222





	To Care for a Bard

The rain was pouring, and the darkness seemed to be pressing in ever closer thanks to the clouds and gloom covering the moon. Geralt had found them a small cave and Jaskier had lit a little fire, but it was still cold and miserable in the dampness. Jaskier’s teeth were chattering, and even Geralt could feel the chill of the air. They were behind schedule as far as getting to Kaer Morhen, and all the Witcher could do was pray that the rain didn’t freeze overnight. 

“Come here,” he finally said impatiently, opening his cloak and repressing a shiver when Jaskier climbed right inside of it and pressed up against him. They’d shared warmth before, but the bard was particularly cold this evening, his icy fingertips pressing under Geralt’s shirt to greedily pet at the bare skin and soak up the natural heat he always gave off. “Better?” the Witcher asked, a wry twist to his lips. 

“Yes, thank you,” Jaskier said primly as if he weren’t still shivering as his body came up to temperature. 

Geralt ignored his gratitude and began shifting, patting at his pockets until he found a small bag. He pulled it out and opened it, pulling out a stick of dried venison and offering it to Jaskier. The bard blinked, unable to see properly with the darkness and flickering shadows from the fire, and he shivered miserably when he went to reach for it and the icy wind snuck into their shared cloak. Geralt huffed and brought it closer to the bard’s mouth, resolutely ignoring the way his cheeks threatened to heat as Jaskier delicately bent his head and took a bite of the jerky from his hands. The smaller man made a noise of appreciation, but Geralt only hummed in response and set the bag of jerky down on his lap to free up his other hand and begin feeding himself. 

Jaskier took the last bite of jerky from his hand, and Geralt suppressed a noise of surprise when the bard’s soft tongue darted over the pads of his fingers. His enhanced sight caught the glimpse of teeth from Jaskier’s private grin, and he growled under his breath, shoving another jerky stick into Jaskier’s face while he finished his own. The cheeky bard nipped at the tip of his thumb when he finished this morsel, and Geralt sighed under his breath when his cock twitched. Once the jerky was finished - and Jaskier had licked Geralt’s fingers clean, the mischievous brat - Geralt moved on to the dried fruits he had carefully packed, and fed himself a few bites between offering morsels to Jaskier.

The soft scent of the human’s natural smell was being overtaken by the spicier scent of lust as he continued to fellate Geralt’s fingers with every pass of food between them. His tongue and teeth were quick and clever, and by the time they’d finished their meal, Geralt was practically vibrating and so hard that he was leaking shamefully into his smallclothes. He could smell the same salt and desire on Jaskier, however, and so when he turned slightly and hauled the bard over his lap to straddle his thighs, there was no hesitation. Jaskier let out a quiet, pleased sigh when their lips met, and Geralt swept his tongue inside the bard’s mouth to taste the meal they’d shared. He could taste traces of himself in Jaskier’s mouth from the bard’s teasing, and he groaned and rocked up, pressing their erections together.

“Oh,” Jaskier muttered, dazed and eager as he started to rock down to meet Geralt’s motions. “Oh, yes, more of that.” 

“Shut up,” the Witcher muttered, fingers twisting in the soft hair at the base of the bard’s neck and bringing him back down to press their mouths together again. He kept one hand on Jaskier’s hip, controlling their motions and sure to leave bruises with how tight he was gripping. Jaskier surrounded the Witcher - the scent of buttercups and sunshine, the taste of salt and honey, the sounds of his pleasure as they rocked together and sought release. 

“You always, _oh_ \- you always take care of me,” Jaskier murmured against Geralt’s mouth, and the Witcher growled and shoved up hard, grinning as the bard cried out and the salt-smell of come spilling into his breeches filled the small space. Geralt ground up a few more times, using both of his hands to keep Jaskier in place, sinking his teeth into the bard’s throat as he came. Jaskier gasped at the feeling, hips twitching of their own volition, and he sighed when Geralt’s teeth released the skin.

“Sorry,” the Witcher mumbled, fingers coming to rest on the bruise already forming on Jaskier’s pale throat.

“Don’t be,” the bard answered, his own hand resting on top of Geralt’s against his skin. “I’m not.”

The cold night passed with them pressed together, and when Jaskier blinked awake the following morning the first thing he saw was Geralt bathed in the sunlight coming in from outside of the cave. The Witcher’s eyes were closed, but Jaskier could tell that he wasn’t asleep - maybe meditating, if only lightly. The bard shifted slightly and groaned as his body protested their awkward sleeping position. Geralt’s golden eyes blinked open immediately, alert and searching as he swept his gaze over the bard’s body. 

“Alright?” he rumbled after a moment, and smiled softly at the pink that dusted the smaller man’s cheeks in response.

“Quite,” Jaskier said, standing and stretching, pleased to feel a bit of warmth from the sun, no matter how weak. “We best get moving,” he mused as he moved to study the sky outside of the cave they’d sought shelter in. “Looks like another storm might hit.”

“We can bed down in the village for a night if we make good time,” Geralt offered as he moved to secure their bedrolls and prepare Roach to move on. 

“Can we afford it?” Jaskier asked, unsure as he recalled their meagre provisions and light coin purse with a small moue of concern.

“I’ll make it up when we’re closer to the keep,” Geralt promised, swinging up onto Roach as Jaskier naturally took his place to the Witcher’s left, fingers already playing on the strings of his lute as they began to pick their way through the forest. “I’m the best hunter out of the ones that usually make it back for winter, and the forests around the keep are teeming with bears and deer. Plenty of soft, meaty things to devour.”

Jaskier snorted at his choice of words but continued to hum and play his lute as they made their way to the village. The clouds were rolling ominously by the time Roach was stabled and they were negotiating for a room with the barkeep, who had thick, corded arms crossed over his barrel chest and a scowl so severe Jaskier thought his face must be stuck like that. He grew tired of watching the alpha male posturing between this stranger and his Witcher, so Jaskier batted his lashes and pressed himself between where they leaned into each other across the wide bar.

“My dear sir,” the bard cooed, pressing dainty hands to the big chest and pushing slightly, watching with satisfaction as the man let himself be pushed back. He did the same with Geralt, shoving his hips back subtly until the Witcher moved a few paces.

“Could I trouble you for just one room in this wonderful establishment?” the bard asked, dropping his hands once the two bigger men were suitably distracted. The barkeep nodded once and held out a hand. Geralt tossed the coins onto the bar to be contrary, and Jaskier sighed through his nose before picking them up and placing them gently in the barkeep’s hand. The man handed him a rusty key with a number attached, and Jaskier thanked him before grabbing Geralt by the sleeve and tugging him up the worn stairs. The room was small but clean, if a little dusty in the corners. The sheets were fresh, and Jaskier wasted no time before stripping himself down to his smallclothes and throwing himself into them, sighing at the feel of straw and linens under him rather than a hard ground and a thin bedroll. 

“Don’t you want to eat?” Geralt asked doubtfully. “I was going to send for a platter when they came for the linens.”

“Mm, in a minute,” the bard answered drowsily, waving a lazy hand. Geralt huffed but let him be, stripping himself to his breeches and tossing his clothes into the hamper as well. Geralt sat at the small table in the corner of the room and cleaned and sharpened his swords methodically while Jaskier dozed, until the sound of footsteps approaching had him moving towards the door. The knock roused Jaskier, who blinked sleepily as Geralt answered it to admit a petite young woman.

“Laundry?” she asked politely.

“Can you send up a tray and a bottle of wine?” Geralt murmured to her as he handed over the linen bag and dropped a handful of coins into the pocket of her apron nonchalantly. She smirked and dipped her head in acknowledgement, her eyes twinkling when she met his gaze. 

Geralt shut the door behind the woman as she left and turned to see Jaskier sitting with his back against the headboard of the modest bed, watching him with sleepy eyes and mussed hair. Geralt caught sight of a linen crease on his cheek and smiled softly, approaching the bed to sit on the edge and skim his fingers over the bard’s cheek.

“Geralt,” Jaskier said softly, voice catching slightly, “what are you doing?”

“I like taking care of you, lark,” the Witcher murmured, eyes still unbearably fond as the bard’s brow wrinkling in confusion. “I’d like to take care of you in other ways, too.”

“Are you - wait a minute. Geralt. Are you propositioning me?”

Geralt glowered, yanking his hand away. “No.”

“Then why make it sound so illicit? Honestly, Witcher. I’ve been in love with you for years, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“I noticed.” Jaskier winced. “Sorry. I just -” Geralt stopped and sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This is hard for me, Jaskier. I’m not supposed to have things like this, but I want them. Want you.”

“You’ve _had_ me.” Jaskier touched his fingertips gently to where Geralt’s hand rested on the bed, and Geralt swallowed hard, turning his over to lace his bigger fingers with the bard’s thinner ones. 

Another knock at the door made Jaskier jump, and Geralt stood to answer it, offering a small, genuine smile to the woman on the other side, who handed him a large tray with a wink and scurried off. 

“What’s this, then?” the bard asked curiously as the Witcher shut the door with his foot and brought the tray to the bed. Geralt made a noise of warning when Jaskier’s hands reached out to touch, so the bard folded them and left them in his lap to let Geralt get settled. The Witcher set the tray to his right on the nightstand and then shifted to pull Jaskier into his lap, pressing them chest to chest. Their noses brushed, and the bard’s cheeks flushed a delicate pink.

“This alright?” the Witcher asked, and his chest tightened when Jaskier nodded immediately. “I’d like to take care of you.” 

“I’d like that,” Jaskier answered. His eyes were impossibly soft. 

Geralt looked at the modest spread the maid had provided and chose a grape, bringing it up to Jaskier’s mouth and watching intently as his pink tongue darted out to taste teasingly. Geralt pushed the offering forward, and Jaskier’s teeth scraped gently against his fingers as he took the fruit with his tongue. The Witcher let out a soft groan as his nerves sparked, picking up a cube of cheese and feeding it to the bard just as reverently. Time slowed and stopped as far as Geralt was concerned, here in this bubble with Jaskier in his lap, being fed and taken care of. Once the plate was mostly empty, Geralt unstoppered the honeyed wine the maid had brought them and filled the single glass, bringing it to Jaskier’s full lips and watching with dark, molten gold eyes as the bard drank deeply. Pulling the glass away, Geralt finished it with a gulp and blindly set it on the platter, heedless of the crash as it fell over in lieu of pulling the bard closer and pressing their mouths together to lick the taste of the wine from between his teeth. 

Jaskier whined and rocked his hips forward, pressing his burgeoning erection against the firmness of Geralt’s abdomen. The Witcher’s scarred hands yanked the bard’s thin chemise off and raked over his back and chest, the callouses catching on sensitive pink nipples and making Jaskier jerk and whimper. 

“I want to see you too,” the bard murmured, lips moving over Geralt’s jaw and cheek, up along to his ear. He gave the sensitive skin a teasing nip, and Geralt’s grip tightened on his hips for a moment before he let go and pushed the bard back a bit to shrug out of his clothes. Once his chest was bare, Geralt pulled Jaskier back into him and sighed as their skin brushed. 

“Kiss me again,” Jaskier requested, and the Witcher smiled slightly before dipping to catch the bard’s mouth as he’d asked, giving a teasing nip to his lower lip that had him gasping. 

“What do you want, little songbird?” the Witcher asked, voice low and teasing, rough against the skin of Jaskier’s throat as he nibbled between words. 

“Want you to fuck me,” Jaskier gasped, head tilting back to give Geralt more room to worry at the soft flesh. The Witcher sucked a bruise into the skin of his shoulder and Jaskier let out a quiet moan at the feel of teeth sinking in. When Geralt pulled back to look at him, the man’s face was a sight to behold. He was a big, scarred man, his golden eyes liquid and wild as they met Jaskier’s own with an intensity the bard had only seen previously during hunts. His teeth were bared, just a little, just to remind Jaskier that he was in bed with a predator. He was so very soft and fragile, and Geralt so strong and capable. The bard knew he didn’t have to be afraid, though. Geralt’s strength would always be there to protect him, never to harm him. 

Geralt rolled them easily so that Jaskier was sprawled out underneath him, pinned to the bed on his back by the Witcher’s considerable bulk. The bigger man sat back on his heels and deft fingers quickly unlaced the bard’s breeches, yanking them down and off along with his smallclothes until he was bare. He stripped himself of his breeches and smalls, then pressed the length of them together, letting out a hiss of pleasure at the feeling of Jaskier's soft skin.

“I’m going to make you feel so good,” Geralt promised, and Jaskier made a small, strangled noise in the back of his throat. 

“Please, Geralt,” he moaned, thighs tensing. “Please fuck me.”

“Have to get you ready first,” the Witcher said consideringly, letting one dry fingertip rub between the cheeks of Jaskier’s ass and over the sensitive rim of his hole. He didn’t press inside, just let his finger rest there and rub over the tempting muscle gently, enjoying the sound of Jaskier panting and the sight of his twitching hips. 

“Oil?” the bard demanded after a moment, meeting Geralt’s gaze with flushed cheeks and blown pupils. He looked gorgeous. Geralt wanted to purr at the sight of him, but offered only a shake of his head.

“Don’t have any.”

“None?”

“Nothing safe for humans.” Geralt looked at his fingers against Jaskier’s hole and then shrugged. “I’ll get you wet, songbird, don’t you worry.”

“How d’you plan to -” Jaskier started but he was interrupted by Geralt shoving two of his thick fingers straight into the smaller man’s mouth. The bard choked for a second before his tongue began to flick over the digits eagerly. Saliva pooled as Geralt pressed down on his tongue, collecting the thick spit as the bard gave reverent licks and nips to his fingertips. When Geralt removed his fingers, spit dripped down Jaskier’s chin and the Witcher licked at his mouth artlessly before kissing him hard and sliding one slicked finger inside that tempting hole. 

Jaskier arched into the pressure and bit down on Geralt’s lower lip. “Yes, another, please.” 

“Since you beg so nicely,” Geralt teased, and the growl in his words made Jaskier shudder just as much as the second finger working its way into him. Geralt slid down the bard’s body, leaving claiming bites and teasing licks, flicking his tongue over a nipple as he settled with his shoulders spreading Jaskier’s thighs wide and his head level with the bard’s slender, leaking cock. The bard whimpered when the Witcher’s head dipped to press soft, teasing kisses to the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. He was well-muscled now from their travels; his body had lost the boyish gangliness of youth and gained definition and broadness. His shoulders and arms were lean but strong, and his narrow waist curved to a full, firm bottom and thick, mouthwatering thighs that Geralt sank his teeth into with gusto, grinning when the claiming bites only made the scent of the bard’s lust spike higher, until every breath Geralt took felt heavy with promise on the back of his tongue. 

“Oh _fuck_ , Ger _alt_!” Jaskier whined, head dropping back to the sheets as Geralt bypassed his cock entirely, licking around where his fingers were buried in the tight clench of the bard’s body instead. He eased a third finger in, mouth still busily licking where his fingers thrust, sometimes darting inside just a tad and making Jaskier whimper. “I’m ready, I’m ready, please,” the bard finally begged, voice high and thin. Geralt wiped his mouth and spit into his palm crudely, dropping his big hand to wrap around his own prick and coat it with his saliva and precome until he glistened. 

As his cock speared Jaskier open, the Witcher pressed their foreheads together and stared intently at the intense look of pleasure on his face. Jaskier had always been a beautiful man - even as a gangly youth, he’d had an air of grace - but now, lost in pleasure with his mouth kiss-bitten and open, his dazed, lust-blown eyes focused on Geralt, he looked better than the Witcher had ever seen him. Geralt groaned as he bottomed out and let Jaskier shift and adjust, his body spasming around where the Witcher’s thick cock was spreading him wide. Geralt shifted minutely and the bard groaned and nodded, digging his neatly trimmed nails into the scarred, broad shoulders of the man above him.

“Fuck me, yes, please,” he muttered into the curve of Geralt’s throat, dropping mindless kisses to the skin in between words. “Take care of me, Witcher.”

Geralt was helpless but to obey, his hips beginning a hard, even pace that set Jaskier to wailing. The bard kept talking, between kisses and gasps and moans, a litany of _yes_ and _please, Geralt_ and _oh, you always take care of me, Witcher._ Geralt groaned at that and set his teeth to the bard’s throat, one hand leaving his hip to wrap around that slender, gorgeous cock, leaking against the bard’s taut belly so temptingly. He smoothed the way with that salty fluid, finding a firm rhythm, adding a twist of his wrist at the head that had Jaskier keening and shaking apart, come spurting from his cock and covering Geralt’s hand and the bard’s own heaving stomach. His thighs and back tensed as he arched with the force of his orgasm, and Geralt came with a moan after another few thrusts, pressing their mouths together sloppily as he filled Jaskier with his spend. The aftershocks kept his hips twitching for a few moments, and the bard whined at the stimulation until Geralt became cognizant enough to gingerly pull his softening cock from inside. 

Jaskier gasped as he felt a torrent of come begin to leak out of him, but Geralt had been prepared and immediately shoved his bunched up shirt underneath the bard’s hips to catch the flow. Once it stopped, the Witcher wet another cloth and wiped Jaskier down, gentle but thorough, before cleaning himself up perfunctorily. Jaskier watched him with soft, half-lidded eyes, hands reaching out to grab for Geralt when he dropped the cloth and approached the bed. The Witcher came willingly, allowing Jaskier to maneuver and manhandle him into a suitable position for sleep as though he weren’t fully capable of breaking the bard in half if he so chose. 

Once they were settled with Geralt on his back and Jaskier tucked up under his arm with his head resting in the crook of the Witcher’s shoulder, the bard finally spoke. 

“I do, you know,” he said into the darkness. “Love you, that is.” Geralt tensed, and Jaskier hurried to reassure him. “I know you don’t, um - I know you don’t deal well with emotions, or whatever. But you don’t have to say it back.”

“I do, Jaskier. It’s just hard.” The words were there but unreachable - the depth of feeling he had for this strange, flighty, foolhardy human was terrifying if he even thought about looking down into it. “I can’t…” he trailed off, frustrated.

“It’s okay,” the bard said, gently threading the fingers of one of his hands through Geralt’s on the Witcher’s strong stomach. “Even if you never say it, I’ll know. After all,” he said, pressing his mouth to Geralt’s scarred knuckles so that the Witcher felt his grin, “you do always take care of me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](https://witcherkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/429.html?thread=6573#cmt6573) prompt on the WKM.


End file.
